Dress Your Family
by Nehan Shinzui34
Summary: Charles' pregnancy did nothing to stem Erik's increasing paranoia and hatred. As he struggles to raise his twins, Pietro and Wanda, the war between sapiens and mutants gets closer and closer to worldwide catastrophe, as he sits imprisoned not only by the reign of terror but by the chains of family. Au. Domestic, forced feminization, dubious consent, mpreg
1. Tidings

**Dress Your Family**

a/n: 1/7/13 This is actually a fill for a prompt I did a couple of years back that I'm continuing now. This is probably the first in a series of updates including my other stories that I've *ducks* neglected for a _really _long time. I'm soo sorry about that, guys, but I'm beginning to gain some of my inspiration back and I've had a really long winter break after my first college semester. Anyhow, if you followed me as queen_subtle on livejournal these updates probably won't be new, but I should have some new posts up soon, seeing as I've finally figured out some key elements of the plot. So hurray for that! And I sincerely hope you guys like this little smidgem! I've shortened the prompt so as not to give too many spoilers!

Prompt: Charles gives birth to Wanda and Pietro, prompting Erik to abduct them post-divorce. Because of his disability, Erik is incredibly over-protective of him, and the twins follow their father's example.

* * *

"Ooooh, how about this one, mum?" Wanda exhaled excitedly as she snatched a dress from the rack of their seemingly endless closet. "Daddy will really love this one. I can just see his face when he sees you!"

Charles gave a sigh as he looked at his beaming and giggling daughter...and the dress she had picked out.

He wouldn't exactly all it trashy-he didn't want to hold the girl to such a low standard-but yet...

He was saved from further comment by the soft snort of his son, who gave him a sympathetic look from where he stood by the window. Pietro's glance pretty much summed up how he felt right about now-mortified.

"Can't you get mum something that doesn't make him look like he's supposed to be walking the streets at 3 in the morning?" he said with an exasperated sigh.

"Pietro," Charles found himself scolding instinctively despite silently agreeing with him. "Please, do not use such language."

"But it's true." the boy persisted. "She always does this. You should see how she dresses when she's out with her friends. I won't have her dressing you like that."

_"_Ex_cus_e me?" Wanda's voice was acidic. "Dress him like what, precisely?"

"You heard me." her twin snapped, standing his ground. "How do you think father would feel?"

"He'd love it on him of course!"

"He'd love everyone looking at him like he's-like he's some-some(he grasped for the word, before giving a quick and nervous glance at Charles) some common whore? Think for a second of how any of the guards sees him in this?"

"Do you not trust him enough that he would allow people that would even glance at him like that?"

Charles exhaled slowly. He knew that once the two started going, it would take them forever to stop. Glancing out the window of their mansion, he slowly counted the falling leaves as the wind scattered them across the grounds.

...

Eventually, when they saw the way he withdrew into himself, the two quieted down, and Wanda, giving a small pout at seeing the time, thrust the dress back into the closet.

"We'll see what daddy thinks when he comes back." she said in a huff, glaring daggers at her brother.

Can't she see how she's stressing him?

Charles heard his son's thoughts, cutting through his chest like ice, and he felt himself flush.

They were both projecting it-that fierce protectiveness they'd inherited from their father, Wanda wanting him to be able to keep his father happy, wanting to make sure that she kept her family together, and Pietro wanting to shield him from anything he could see as a threat. It pained him, smothered him with guilt at the fact that this was the only thing they ever really argued about.

He knew that the two of them meant well...but sometimes, he just wished...

Wanda let out a horrified yelp, slapping a palm against her head.

"Late again, dear?" Charles asked her softly and she gave a hurried nod as she began snatching things from the closet, and readying herself.

As she went out, she bent down and gave him a rushed kiss on the cheek and gave her brother a significant look, before reciting what had become their mantra ever since they were small children.

"Keep him safe." she says, and hurries out.

...

Pietro helps him choose the rest of his clothes, noncommittally giving him a much more conservative dress, one that covers his back and goes just past his legs. It's more of a homemaker's dress and though Charles will always miss his suits and ties, he finds this at least, acceptable.

The teen fixes him breakfast, and chats with him about the little things and laughs jokingly that he's glad it happens to be this day he's missing class-he'd had a test he wasn't ready for today. Not like Dad didn't have things arranged with the principal already. He's never gotten anything less than exemplary grades anyway.

"It's cuz I'm such a quick thinker." he blandly jokes, giving the telepathy a half-grin as he peels oranges.

Charles will always find himself intrigued at how different Pietro is when he's at home. In school, he's rowdy, loud, a bit of a smart-aleck and...Charles doesn't want to go so far but-a bit of a troublemaker to be honest.

He is nothing like how he is now-quiet, caring, tuned in to just the slightest cause of concern. He is Charles' little boy, his first born(by two minutes!, he can hear a seven-year old Wanda scream in earnest, and the thought makes him smile) and while Wanda more of a daddy's girl, her father's little Scarlet Witch, Pietro on the other hand, can only be called-and he flinches just the slightest bit at the term-a mama's boy.

"You're not still thinking about it, are you?" Pietro has stopped mid-peel, his eyes looking him over in worry.

"Ah, your sister's taste in dress, has always been but a minor fright to me, I'm afraid." Charles said, giving an offhanded gesture, and the tiniest of smiles.

"You know that isn't what I mean." his tone has none of the levity and joyfulness it had less than a few minutes ago, and Charles knows he must of heard he and Erik arguing last night. He feels his lips slide into the slightest frown. He says nothing, not knowing what to say, his eyes drifting towards the window once more. Beyond the fields of grass and the orchard, he can see the stone walls jutting out on the horizon.

...

"He only does it to protect you!" the boy insists, his voice suddenly stern, and Charles feels that embarrassment gnawing at him again, that it is he that is the child, and not the other way around. Erik has given them that much authority nowadays, now that they are old enough that are even attending school alongside other mutants, mutants at the school that Erik founded in his name.

"He knows how I feel about the attacks," he replies, his tone reserved, still trying to hold on to the small sense that he is somehow protecting his son from the worst of the outside world. "He knows how...it isn't right. It was unprovoked."

"How many times had Stryker preached to destroy people like us? How long has he been preaching that hate speech? Do you not remember how he hurt your own sister?" Pietro counters, his voice rising almost hysterically, before he lowers it, ashamed, as he sees the hurt look on Charles' face.

"Please, don't talk like that. It isn't fair."

Pietro's voice softens and he lays an orange-juice stained hand on his. "I'm sorry. But it's true. It's why we all have to protect you." His voice takes on that cocky tone once more. "Why do you think we risk our 'precious' education?"

"And take so much time from school?" Charles says, mildly scolding, but his smile weakening the reprimand. His son gives him a smile and all is well again. "I'm happy to see I'm your excuse for ditching your physics class. It means an awful lot."

His son finishes on the stove, fixing up their plates. He has fixed all of Charles' favorites.

Pietro ducks his head, abruptly shy.

"I will...I will talk to him when he comes home. See to it, that he hears your concerns at least. It really isn't fair is it?" he adds, almost to himself.

Charles feels himself tearing up just the slightest bit at his words, at the care placed into the boy's face.

He laughs them off with a grin, his eyes temporarily glued to the plate.

"That's one trait you certainly didn't inherit from me. I never could cook."

It is a simple statement, but Pietro suddenly gives a sardonic laugh and wraps his arms around him in a rare warmth-filled hug.

...

The rest of the day moves on quite slowly, his son wheeling him around and they even venture out onto the grounds for a short while. He leans back sucking in the fresh air, soaking in the sight of the long fields of grass, the trees and the leaves. Fall has always been one of his favorite seasons. It feels as though it's been an eternity since he was let out.

"There's been...strife since the sapien riots in New York." Pietro tells him, his brows creased as he feels Charles' feelings seeping out of him like ink.

Charles pinches the bridge of his nose at the term. "I thought I told you I didn't want to hear you using language like that."

The frown he receives is part guilty, part indignant.

Sapiens... It's a word his father has taught him, and one of the reasons Charles cannot stand when Erik has them go with him on missions. He can feel his chest constricting at what they're being taught.

"They're humans. They're not so different from us."

Pietro chooses not to comment on this. "Dad's coming home soon." He looks down at him with that half-smile again. "He says he can't tell you how much he misses you."

But he is projecting nothing but unease, and he can tell he prefers spending time with him.

The residue of Erik's oppressiveness when he was younger still clings to him.

He can, even now, recall his twins at six years old, and not even able to go out into the backyard. They are older now, and given more than their fair share of freedom, but at the same time Charles can tell that Pietro feels as though he is a continuos disappointment to Erik somehow, that he will never be as special as Wanda, that he will never quite match up to her. That somehow, Erik doesn't love him enough. And that is why, subconsciously he clings to Charles'-his mother's skirts as if he is still three years old.

"Yes, he messaged me for a moment not too long ago," Charles said, pressing a finger to his forehead. "It was very brief though-he seemed in a hurry. When did you go see him?"

"This morning." the boy says with a smirk. "Speed has a vast amount of benefits, did you know that mum? I can see him anywhere as long as he tells me where he is beforehand."

"Or if he's on the news." and the cloud comes across Charles' face again at Magneto's latest escapades.

They sit in a semi-awkward silence, staring at the rippling waters of the lake in the shade of a tree.

After awhile, his son speaks again, his tone notably more reserved.

"I think I'm ready to fight."

A sledgehammer slams into his heart.

Not this. Not now. Not when things here are so peaceful.

"I don't want to talk about this. Not now." his tone is sharper than he wanted it to be, edged with panic.

"There is a war coming, Mum. Can't you see? This is my chance to fight and protect people like us! To-"

"How do you think your father would feel about this? About you risking your life like this? About kill-"

"They would only people who deserved it! Only people who have taken lives anyway, sapiens and anti-mutant terrorists and those pigs like Styker, those who know nothing about-"

"Do you really think you have the right to decide what is right and what's wrong, who should live and who shouldn't?" his voice is definitely louder now. "Do you think that their lives mean anything less than yours?"

"But they're trying to hurt us-hurt _you_! Mum, why can't you-"

_"Don't call me that_!" Charles is shouting at him now, and he pauses, shocked at himself.

Pietro gives him a hurt and pained look.

He lowers his eyes. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I just-" he struggles for words.

"Just take me inside now, will you?"

Pietro obeys, face stony.

...

a/n: 1/7/13 This was originally about three chapters(if I recall correctly,) in order to fit lj's format but I guess just the one is fine for now. Also, I'm not sure, but let's say that the setting is in Genosha. It's a complete bastardazation of canon if you want the truth, with elements of First Class, plus Genosha, plus House of M. If you have any suggestions, please let me know and I'll try and address them. Also, as I've said before, I don't want anyone to think I've given up on any of my stories-it's just taking a while, since my muse sort of died.


	2. Unsettled

ii.

The day is monotonous and boring for the most part, and Pietro projects a chilly indifference until dinner-his way of throwing the temper tantrums that his sister is so prone too. But Charles is firm, and doesn't mention his son's decision the rest of the evening. That is, until Erik returns.

The two of them have just finished preparing dinner, the food still hot, piled steaming onto plates by the Pietro who has mastered presicion to go with his speed. It nearly makes Charles smile, until he thinks of how these skills can be used on a battlefield. He frowns into his plate, until Pietro pulls him away from the table, and wheels him to the door, where he waits for Erik to enter.

The faint smell of ash, precedes him through the doorway, like some sort of expensive cologne, that is wholly Erik. The man towers over him, his head looking left and right, giving an imperious glance about the house, the stern and menacing glare he'd been holding the entire day, immediately softening as his eyes fell on Charles, his hair combed, his hands steepled in his lap, wearing the dress that his son picked out for him, looking ever the 50s suburban housewife.

Erik is wearing the helmet as he always does when he isn't in the safety of their home, but the telepath doesn't need to read his mind to know that his son has made a good choice in his attire.

Erik swoops down on him, the cape billowing slightly, wrapping around him for the briefest moment, as he gives him a soft kiss on the cheek. His voice is a low, sensuous rumble,

"How have you been today, dear? Pietro keeping you well?"

Charles suppresses a grimace, though this has been a routine for so long, he wonders why he still flinches whenever his...husband shows him any affection. Erik, at least, has learned to ignore any signs of reluctance.

"He is his father's son." Charles replies. He gives the man above him a significant look, that the man doesn't catch, as Wanda suddenly barges into the house after him.

"Hey, Mum." she beams at him, wrapping her arms around him, and giving him a peck on the cheek.

She tosses him a devilish grin that has Charles groaning in horror even before he has read his mind.

_I thought kids were supposed to be more forgetful_. he mentally groans.

"Daddy, I picked out this dress for mum today that I think you'd really love. It's really pretty."

"Wanda...please, let us eat first, this isn't the time for-"

"Go get it for me, darling." Erik says with a smile at her. Charles feels Pietro stiffen mentally.

Wanda dashes off, pleased that she may be getting her way.

Erik takes hold of Charles' wheelchair and steers him to the kitchen, without a glance at his son.

...

Charles sits in his usual spot at the table-wrapped in Erik's arms, sitting in his lap as the man spoon feeds him like a child. His lips twitch as he recalls how fervently he would protest about this in the earlier days. Before he understood how futile those efforts had been.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his son fork raised slightly to his mouth, giving the both of them a fixed look, and something strange is projecting off of him, but before Charles can look any more into that, Wanda stampedes in, swinging the dress in with her, and Pietro's mouth closes, his gaze snapping away from them, and his lips now set in a stern line as he glares at his sister.

"What's this?" Erik asks, brows raised in curiosity. He sees him take in all of the piece, and his arousal grows so that charles does not have to read his mind to know what will be coming soon.

It irks him that Erik can come home after all the events of the day and be so concerned with a dress as if he's some typical working-class father instead of leader of a global terrorist organization.

"Please, we're eating." Charles protests weakly.

Erik does not comment on it, but is still staring at it, and they can tell he is mentally dressing Charles in it, seeing his legs bare and his back out, seeing the slope of his neck and how easy it would be to get him out of it.

Pietro gives a cough and Wanda stares at him awkwardly until Erik finds himself and clears his throat. "Put it in our room dear."

"_Father!_ Pietro says, using the the term he reserves when he is exasperated, frustrated, embarassed or all three, the blush on his face a stark contrast to the white of his hair, just as his twin gives a delighted giggle and dashes off.

Erik gives him an odd glance. "Is there something wrong, Pietro?" he inquires with a raised brow.

Pietro glares at him for a long moment.

"Pietro..." Charles says softly, his tone one of confusion. He didn't understand why it was bothering the boy so much. It wasn't as if he had much choice in his wardrobe anyway.

"He...he shouldn't be seen wearing things like that. What would-what would any of the...(he grasps for words) _others_ think? It's too revealing and-and they may-"

"Your concerns are baseless. Only I will see him like this. And in any case, if anyone besides me even _glanced_ at him they'd be dead." Erik gives a quiet scoff and Charles clutches his shirt so that he does not slide out of his lap. His face is bright red. "I would think you'd have more confidence in how I cared for him by now."

_Pietro please drop it it isn't that serious._

But Pietro responds mentally at the same time he opens his mouth. "But you haven't even considered if _he_ wants it or not!" His tone is hot, enraged, but his mind is filled with something else, something different.

It is the apoplectic look in Erik's eyes that makes Charles step in.

"You are overstepping your father, please remove yourself." he says, but only because Erik's grip on him has tightened, and he is screaming

_how dare he accuse me after all i have done afterihaveraisedthebothofthe mcharlesisafeinnooneels'shandsbutminewhatdoeshethink _ and because all though has never dreamed of hurting his children he looks very tempted to do so now.

Pietro shoves his chair back and uses all the restraint he has not to bolt out of the room at the speed of light or however fast he's capable of running. Probably quick enough to make a sonic boom at least, and in a fit of madness, Charles feels the abrupt urge to laugh.

This is not helped by how Wanda rushes into theawkward silence that has been created, all smiles, and pizazz, oblivious to the moment, her arms spread wide in glee. When she sees how upset her father looks and how Charles is turned into a maddened state, she cocks her head to the side.

"Did I miss something here?"

...

That night, Erik begins fucking him with an urgency he rarely shows.

"I want you in that dress." he breathes into his ear, and Charles barely gives a grunt in response, looking towards the ceiling, his eyes elsewhere as he lets loose a detached moan, as Erik's hands move frantically all over him. "That girl-" his breath is impossibly hot in his ear."I don't know where she got her taste from, but I'm thankful for it."

Charles clenches his eyes shut, and tightens his lips. He had tried refusing him, but Erik cannot be dissuaded when he's in this mood, so he's resolved himself to counting slowly in his head until it's over.

He supposes it isn't as bad as when this all first started.

Erik wouldn't even pretend to consider anything other than his own pleasure in those days.

After a while, Erik's movements come to an abrupt stop, and Charles assumes that he's finished.

There is a long silence before Erik finally moves, pulling away from him and looking down at him.

"You didn't come for me, Charles." his voice sounds vaguely troubled.

_How many times have you counted me doing so ,Erik?_

"Pietro wants to fight." Just hearing the words from his own voice, threatened to tear Charles apart.

He saw Erik smile then, and the man's tone was pleased when he answered.

"And he shall. Pietro is almost a man grown now. And we will need all the men we can get, darling."

Charles reached up a hand and hit him. Hard.

His husband was stunned for a second, eyes flung open wide, before he slowly turned back to him, a soft smile creeping across his face. He placed a gentle kiss on his forehead before falling back on top of him, wrapping his arms around his rigid body, burying his face into the crook of his neck.

"I see you are upset. Do not worry your precious head about it. We can discuss it in the morning."

"_No." _Charles insisted. "You will not-you will not _murder_ my child."

"Murder?" Erik let loose a chuckle into his ear. "It will not be me who murders Pietro. It will be humans. That is, if they can catch him."

"He is a _child_-"

"And physically and genetically superior to any human at their physical prime. Honestly, Charles you're being absurd. And in any case, the boy clearly wants it himself. I see no reason to deny him. It will rally our troops, seeing that their leader's own children are willing to fight for the cause."

Tears were beginning to burn in Charles' eyes. "But..my child-Erik, please you must understand-" _Why do I feel so weak? So helpless?_. "He is not ready."

"No. But he soon will be. I have already enrolled him in the training program." His eyes gleamed. "He has so much potential. In a few years, he may even rise to a lieutenant. And Wanda...the potential of her power..once we...tap into it-is astronomical. Surely you can see that, Charles? Who knows what they could do with the proper training? I, personally think it's long past due."

"But-school-"

Another kiss was planted on his lips. "Shh. All will be seen to tomorrow. Now rest my sweetling. Unless you wish to have another child."

...

a/n: 1/15/13 I have a couple more updates to go until the actual newer updates for those who have been following me since livejournal. Sorry if the formatting is terrible, I'm kind of copying and pasting from longer more compressed documents. Please review.


	3. Forbode

a/n: Hello, everyone! This is the last copy and past update! Next chapter, will be completely new stuff, so those who have been following for a while, bear with me! Thank you for bearing with me and please enjoy and review!

iii.

Pietro awoke sullen and brooding the next morning. Running his hand through his hair, he looked dejectedly out of his window, his head swimming violently.

He had-he had heard them last night. The boy knew he should be used to it by now-he was a _teenager_ and he had learned long ago that this was what parents _did. _But still, hearing it-knowing what was going on-somehow it filled him with shame and embarassment. Once he had even _seen _them, when he was much younger and he remembered being almost angry, because he had thought that father was _hurting_ him.

_It's not so different from everyone else, _Pietro thought to himself, climbing out of his bed, and moving towards the bathroom. _No one likes to hear their parents doing_ it.

But nobody stopped to listen to it either.

Waiting until the water in the sink was full, he dunked his head under until his lungs were ready to burst.

...

When he stepped into the kitchen, Wanda had already left for school. He sighed. He'd almost rather be in her place, instead of being stuck here.

Things were always strange after an argument, and as he looked at Charles, sitting forlornly at the kitchen table, tapping lightly with his fingers, and staring idly at the food his sister had made for him, Pietro felt even more ashamed.

He sat down awkwardly, shoulders hunched as he reached for a fruit from the bowl. Mum still said nothing.

Sucking in a breath, Pietro broke the silence with a slightly trembling voice.

"Are you alright, Mum?"

Charles finally looked up at him, and he saw that his eyes were rimmed with red. His mother didn't say anything about it though, instead shrugging it off with a hand.

"Oh nothing. Just tired. Your father kept me up all night." Then, realizing what he had just said, he turned red and looked away, but then Pietro saw the hickeys along his neck and that filled him with anger.

"Did you-I-I heard you arguing last night," Pietro diverted, as if that was what he'd meant.

"No, not arguing." Charles lied weakly-he never seemed to want them to know when they were having problems. "We were just-trying to figure things out."

"What kinds of things?"

"Oh, you know. Things."

There was a pregnant pause.

"You needn't worry about that, darling. Your father would never hurt me."

"I never said you could read my mind!" the boy practically snapped.

Charles stared at him with a stunned expression.

Pietro flinched. "I-I apologize."

"I never read your mind." he replied. "It's written all over your face. And I didn't think I'd need permission."

Pietro turned away from him in agitation at that. "Just because you can, doesn't mean you should you know."

His mother ignored the reprimand, only giving him a sad and confused look. "Why would you think something like that, Pietro?"

He crinkled his nose. Breathed. Looked away. "Sometimes...the way he talks to you-I can tell it upsets you. And then...and then...sometimes at night-" he could not say it. Could not tell him of the times he'd be watching, and when he'd see the look of discomfort and displeasure and _pain_ on his mother's face.

"Oh, my precious child." Charles reached his hand across the table, gripping his hands, burying his face in them.

A flush went up Pietro's neck. "Mum...I-"

His hands were growing wet.

"It's alright, Mum." he said softly. "It's alright."

Charles looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes and he felt his face flush.

"But...if it were me-I'd make sure you'd never cry, instead of-instead of just ignoring it. And I'd-I'd make for certain you'd enjoy it."

His mother had nothing to say to that.

...

His aim was perfect. Erik scrutinized his son with a critical eye, watching him from atop the platform with the rest of the tutors.

"He is good, sir."

"Of course he is. He's _my _son." Erik replied with more than a hint of self-satisfaction.

Pietro tightened his lips listening to them, scrunching his eyes at his test targets. He has hit every single one in the very center. But these are just wooden constructs. If one of these was an actual living, breathing, human being...he doesn't think things would be quite so easy.

He could..._could_ kill them. he told himself, they would be threatening his _mother_, but his aim might be off, the trajectory when he came behind him totally different. So many things could go wrong...

"Pietro." his father called him, and he looked back. "That will be all."

He flinches slightly, his father's gaze cool and calculating.

_I'll show Mother._ he thought as he made his way from the platform with a brisk nod. _I'll show him that I _am_ ready to protect him._

a/n: 1/16/13. Okay, so here we are. I tried to be a little subtle with the familial weirdness and I know these have been kind of boring so far, but I expect things shall be picking up pretty soon, and I'm going to be exploring their world on a deeper level next chapter, and I'll try and make the next chapter longer and more detailed. Thank you for reading, and pwease, pwease review!


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